nightingale
by haveyounomercy
Summary: It's something about that half-grin half-smirk that he does that gets her all tingly inside. Shirashi/OC, one-shot.


a/n: wow I haven't written in so long, but please enjoy this nameless OC. this is set the year before the manga. if Temari is reading this, sorry for messing up Shiraishi. :')

disclaimer: all rights go to their respective owners.

It's eleven o'clock at night and she can hear the nightingale singing in the next room.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" she whispers softly, running her hands over his, trying to smooth out all the cuts and blisters that decorate them.

He smiles jokingly at her as she does so, at the same time wincing. "Hey, that hurts y'know."

Her face hardens and she forces him to sit down with her on the tatami mat, facing each other. She sits on her knees while he goes cross-legged. "Please be more serious about your injuries, Shiraishi."

He reaches up to tuck a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Hey, come on, don't make that face. It's not like it's that bad, either."

_It is that bad_, she wants to scream. _It's bad because you're still in your tennis uniform at an hour to midnight and I've let you into my house because your parents are away. It's bad because if you keep doing this to your hands everything you've worked for is going to fall apart_. But she doesn't, because she was brought up to be a lady, and ladies do not scream. Especially at this hour when she is supposed to be lying in bed, counting the fake stars on the ceiling, wondering what her mother will unleash at her in the morning. So instead, she fixes him with a glare.

He just grins, and her heart flutters. It's something about that half-grin half-smirk that he does that gets her all tingly inside. Her father would disapprove of this feeling, she's absolutely sure of it. No thirteen year old girl should fool themselves into thinking they are in love, especially with a boy like Shiraishi. She is too young and too foolish, this is merely a crush and crushes are just phases of a teenage lifestyle.

"Hey, do you really sleep in this?" He raises an eyebrow as she pulls out a roll of bandaids from the first aid kit she bought especially for him. She looks down at her silk nightgown, embroidered with lace and red ribbons. In truth, she hates how restricting of her movements it is. However, this nightgown had been a gift from her dear father, so she wears it every night.

"It's just a nightgown," she answers, asking for his hand.

"It looks more fancy than anything _I've_ ever slept in." Unwillingly, he gives her the battered hand with a sigh. "Is this also part of this 'being a lady' thing you've got going on?"

"If I am to succeed the family hotel and onsen from my father, then I must learn how to be a lady." She doesn't know how many times she's said this, or why she even bothers anymore, because he never quite understands. Of course he wouldn't. Shiraishi is like the wind, he is free to go wherever he wants.

He just sighs and looks around. "Where is your beloved father anyways?"

"Chiba," she replies smoothly, opening the antiseptic case. "He left in the afternoon. Said he had some business to take care of there. My mother is taking the opportunity to take me shopping tomorrow. Says she can never enjoy herself with him around."

He hisses lightly as she applies the cream onto his cuts. The nightingale keeps on singing.

She ignores his pain and keeps on applying the cream. Taking a peek from under her bangs, she stares at the silver-haired boy and wonders, once again, how they ever got together, and if they will stay together.

The last thought is nonsense, she tells herself while blowing softly on the wound. Shiraishi will keep on playing tennis for a shot at Wimbledon, she will keep on taking mannerism lessons to become a proper lady, and they will go their separate ways.

Everything about them is different. His looks stand out in a crowd; he is handsome and his features are sharp and his smile is friendly. He has long limbs that are toned with muscles, and his gleaming silver hair shines in any weather. She is demure from head to toe, a typical Japanese lady with long black hair, pale skin, and eyes that never give anything away. He stands tall, proud, strong. Sometimes she has a hard time opening water bottles.

But for now, she is content to have it stay like it is. She will keep tending to his wounds in the night when he has no one else to go to. She will continue to nurture him until she is not needed anymore. This is quite mature of her, she thinks. Her father would approve.

And as she stares at Shiraishi and thinks about the future, she reminds herself that ladies do not cry in public, only behind closed doors when no one can hear.

"You know..." Shiraishi is doing that same old half-grin that makes her feel all giddy, "We're almost third years now."

"Yes," she nods slowly, "yes we are."

"Next year, I'll be the captain of the team," he looks wistfully above her head, as if he's looking into the future. "Who knows, we might even get some powerful recruits too. And if we make it to Nationals..."

She closes her eyes and imagines with him, because right now, this is his biggest goal. If she could help him achieve that, in any way, she would be happy.

He looks down at his now bandaged hand. "I have less than one year to master this technique. I have to achieve the perfect tennis by the time we're third years."

"Perfect tennis?" she looks up from his other hand.

He waves his bandaged hand in a circular motion, "Bible Tennis. It will be the most perfect tennis anyone's ever seen."

She furrows her eyebrows. "Are you sure you can do it?"

He winks at her teasingly, "Well, I'll certainly try."

And she smiles. Of course he will. "I'll root for you then, Shiraishi-kun."

"You should smile more often," he remarks, bandaged fingers softly brushing against her cheek, "You look so cute when you smile."

She blushes as she ducks away from his touch, because ladies are modest. He is bold; much bolder than the other boys at their age. But again, he is different from them in so many ways. He is a gentleman, he is mature, he is the object of half of the grade's affections. She thinks she is his first girlfriend, but it's times like this that she wonders about his experience.

"But it's true!" This time his un-bandaged hand comes to take hers. "I know it's sort of weird, our relationship, but I really like you." He gently squeezes her hand and grins at her.

Despite her efforts not too, she smiles again and he winks. "See? Now that's better."

She raises an eyebrow and tries to take her hand away, but he holds hers tightly.

"Let me be selfish for a little while, okay? Let's just... stay like this for now. Just a few minutes."

She sighs softly, and stops her futile efforts. He brings her closer to him, gently moving her around so that her back faces towards him. Slowly, he drapes his free arm around her waist and hugs her there, sitting. Not too long after a heavy weight drops down on her shoulder, and she can feel a cheek brushing against hers. This is not proper behaviour for a lady at thirteen. Her mental image of her ever present dad is once again: disapproving.

"Shiraishi-kun..."

"Just a few minutes."

She smiles softly, and leans into his embrace, still holding his hand. Well, just for a few minutes, right? It would be good to enjoy this. She enjoys Shiraishi's company. And if her heart is beating twice as fast as normal, then that is something she is willing to ignore for the next few minutes. After all, this is just a crush.

"Shiraishi-kun?"

He stirs briefly before murmuring sleepily, "Call me Kuranosuke."

She tries not to blush too deeply. Ladies must always carry themselves properly. "Kuranosuke-kun..."

"...Yes?" He's barely awake now, she can tell.

"..." It would not be very hard. It would just be three little words. All she has to say are three little words before he falls asleep. After all, if she doesn't take the chance now, she might never be able to say it. They could be over in a month, a week, tomorrow morning. A mature lady such as herself shouldn't find it this hard to say it.

The clock strikes twelve, and the nightingale stops her singing for all of five seconds, empty silence hanging in the air.

She can't say it.

Those three words, she isn't ready yet. She looks to her side for a moment, catching a glimpse of silver hair falling onto closed eyelids. And suddenly, she is not afraid anymore.

Perhaps she cannot say them now, but she will say them sometime in the future. Properly. She is not afraid of them ending tomorrow morning anymore, because she will make it work. Her father is tucked in the back of her mind, and a new expression dawns on her face. She will not be afraid any longer, because from now on she will savour every second and make use of every gesture. It will be so that when, or _if_ they part, she will have the least regrets possible.

Because she loves Shiraishi Kuranosuke, she will stay by him for as long as she possibly can.

She will watch him play his Bible Tennis, she decides, because he will master it. She believes in him.

_That_ is true maturity.

She will tell him one day, when the moment is right. And she will not be afraid. The nightingale continues singing.

Because a lady never gives up.


End file.
